Where wings to rustle use, But this poor tarrier— Searching my spirit’s eaves— Find I for carrier. Ah! bring them back to me Swiftly, sweet comer! Swift, swift, and bring with you Song’s Indian summer! _Seraphim_, _Her to hymn_, _Might leave their portals_; _And at my feet learn_ _The harping of mortals_! III. Whereso your angel is, My angel goeth; I am left guardianless, Paradise knoweth! I have no Heaven left To weep my wrongs to; Heaven, when you went from us; Went with my songs too. _Seraphim_, _Her to hymn_, _Might leave their portals_; _And at my feet learn_ _The harping of mortals_! IV. I have no angels left Now, Sweet, to pray to: Where you have made your shrine They are away to. They have struck Heaven’s tent, And gone to cover you: Whereso you keep your state Heaven is pitched over you! _Seraphim_, _Her to hymn_, _Might leave their portals_; _And at my feet learn_ _The harping of mortals_! V. She that is Heaven’s Queen Her title borrows, For that she pitiful Beareth our sorrows. So thou, _Regina mî_, _Spes infirmorum_; With all our grieving crowned _Mater dolorum_! _Seraphim_, _Her to hymn_, _Might leave their portals_; _And at my feet learn_ _The harping of mortals_! VI. Yet, envious coveter Of other’s grieving! This lonely longing yet ’Scapeth your reaving. Cruel! to take from a Sinner his Heaven! Think you with contrite smiles To be forgiven? _Seraphim_, _Her to hymn_, _Might leave their portals_; _And at my feet learn_ _The harping of mortals_! VII. Penitent! give me back Angels, and Heaven; Render your stolen self, And be forgiven! How frontier Heaven from you? For my soul prays, Sweet, Still to your face in Heaven, Heaven in your face, Sweet! _Seraphim_, _Her to hymn_, _Might leave their portals_; _And at my feet learn_ _The harping of mortals_! V. SCALA JACOBI PORTAQUE EBURNEA. HER soul from earth to Heaven lies, Like the ladder of the vision, Whereon go To and fro, In ascension and demission, Star-flecked feet of Paradise. Now she is drawn up from me, All my angels, wet-eyed, tristful, Gaze from great Heaven’s gate Like pent children, very wistful, That below a playmate see.